Buying a Sports Car
by smacky30
Summary: Set after Lady Heather's Box slight spoilers for that episode. Brass goes to Heather for help with his inadequacies.


Buying a Sports Car

Disclaimer: Not mine. Kinda wish the were though.

A/N: Thanks to dreamsofhim and Cincoflex for the beta. A special thanks to a man I met in Providence who has beautiful blue eyes and a sexy trench coat. He gave me inspiration.

The house was imposing, like something out of a horror movie. The deep porch was lit by a single light that cast its yellow glow in a small puddle just by the front door, leaving the rest of the expansive space in deep shadow. Even the streetlights in this area seemed anemic. Everything about the place was dark and a little spooky. Jim Brass had parked his truck just down the block. The engine was idling and the heater running to ward off the chill that had moved in once the sun went down. His gaze only wavered from the abode long enough to check the time. He had fifteen minutes to make up his mind.

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, the only outward sign of his nervousness. In the fifty years he had been alive, Jim Brass had learned to fear very little. He had faced guns and knives and drug crazed lunatics hell bent on sending him screaming into the afterlife and survived every bit of it. Why did the thought of a five and a half foot woman scare him so badly?

His mind played over one of his last meetings with the woman who ran things in the house on the corner. Lady Heather had offered to help him with his inadequacy. The trouble was he hadn't felt inadequate at the time. Actually, he was pretty sure he was okay on all levels. But she had planted that seed. The niggling doubt that there was something wrong with him that he knew nothing about played in his subconscious day in and day out. That's what this was really about. He wasn't aroused by the sorts of things that went on inside The Dominion. He just wanted to know what Lady H was talking about.

With a snort of laughter at his own foolishness he cut the engine and got out of the vehicle. He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and strolled toward the house. Slowly making his way to the door he hesitated only a moment before reaching out and rapping sharply on the heavy oak portal. It swung open silently and Brass saw Lady Heather's eyes widen in surprise before she schooled her features into a mask of cool indifference.

"Captain Brass," she intoned smoothly, "to what do I owe the pleasure? Another unsolved murder that needs a good scapegoat?"

Brass met her gaze and replied, "I'm not here on business. At least not police business."

She raised an eyebrow in a silent question and stepped back motioning for him to come in. As she closed the door behind him he took a moment to study his surroundings. Nothing had changed since he was last here. Heavy drapes kept out prying eyes, candles flickered from sconces, rich carpets covered the hardwood floors and, from somewhere in the bowels of the house, screams and moans rang out.

With catlike grace, Lady Heather moved to stand in front of him. "Would you like to come in and have a seat? I could have Michael bring us something to drink. I have just a few minutes before my next appointment."

With a smirk, Brass replied, "Actually, I'm your next appointment."

A smile spread over her full lips and she inclined her head. "Ah, James, it's nice to meet you." Her voice was just as he remembered, low and throaty and decidedly erotic.

"So much for anonymity, huh?"

"If you are seeking anonymity, you have come to the wrong place, Captain. There are no secrets in my house."

Brass let his eyes trail over the woman before him. Her leather corset, gauzy skirt and thigh high boots were the things some men fantasized about. But Jim Brass wasn't impressed with the trappings of her job. "If there are no secrets here why are you hiding behind that costume?"

Lady Heather's eyes sparkled just a bit and she replied, "Touché, James." Clasping her hands in front of her, she studied him. His thinning hair and tough features were not unattractive. He wasn't tall or thin or movie star handsome but he had a keen intelligence that intrigued her. "Why are you here?"

"Because it's more sensible than trading my truck for a sports car," he said matter-of-factly.

A deep chuckle escaped before she could stop it. "That's an interesting analogy. Am I to be your mid-life crisis? Because let me assure you, you won't be the first."

Brass cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the room. What was it about this woman that made him so nervous? "Well, Lady H, if I were the type of guy to have a mid-life crisis I think I could find worse ways of…uh…working it out." A crooked smile drew up one side of his mouth as his eyes landed on hers. She merely watched him, her expression bemused. "So…uh…how do we do this?"

"It's not a procedure James. You obviously saw something here you need. It is my job to find out what that something is. It is your job to let me." She watched as his eyes went flat in that stare perfected by cops around the world. "Why don't we go upstairs? We can sit and talk there."

After a second's hesitation he nodded and gestured for her to precede him. Despite his nerves, Brass found himself captivated by the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs. Her filmy skirt did little to conceal her long legs and he allowed his eyes to skate down from the firm globes of her ass to the impossibly high heels of her boots. His body responded to the visual stimulation in a typically male fashion and he fought the urge to reach up and take what he so obviously wanted. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and followed her into the library.

"Please have a seat, James," Lady Heather gestured toward a brocade settee. "Can I get you something to drink? Tea perhaps?"

"Do you have something stronger?" Brass' voice was husky, betraying him to a woman schooled in reading people. "Bourbon maybe?"

With a nod of her head, she replied, "Certainly. On the rocks?" At his nod, she went about making his drink. Her movements were fluid and elegant and Brass found himself enthralled by her hands. Again, his body betrayed him and he darted out his tongue to wet his lips.

Taking the proffered glass, Brass took a sip. The feel of the whiskey burning a path to his belly centered him. When Lady Heather settled in a chair across from him he met her inquiring gaze with one of his own. Never had he met a woman more entrancing than she. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue, her features were strong and her lips were something straight out of a porn movie. He wanted nothing more than to possess her. Belatedly, he realized she was speaking and felt a blush rise on his cheeks.

"I'm sorry. What was that?" he asked.

"I was merely asking you to tell me about yourself."

With a shrug Brass replied, "There's not much to tell. What you see is pretty much what you get."

Her lips tipped up in a smile and she said, "I doubt that. You have many layers James, many hidden secrets. I can't do my job if you are unwilling to share." Receiving no reply she shrugged lightly and said, "I have all the time in the world. Why don't you tell me about your hobbies?"

Brass rolled his eyes at her obvious ploy. "If I wanted to talk I could have gone to a shrink. I came here to unwind."

Straightening her spine and nailing him with her haughtiest look, she said, "Very well. Dominant or submissive, Captain Brass? Which is it? Pain or no pain? Tell me what you like. I am merely here to serve."

"Since you are so good at reading people why don't you tell me?" Brass knew he was being difficult but couldn't seem to stop himself.

Standing, Lady Heather strode across the room and poured a glass of water. After taking a long drink she turned to him and said, "Fine. I'll tell you what I know. I know that you carry your responsibilities firmly on your shoulders. I know that you are tough and seemingly in control. I also know that you feel powerless – powerless to stop crime, powerless to help those that need it most, powerless to help yourself. How am I doing so far?"

Even though her words were skating along the edge of fact, he shook his head. Denial was on the tip of his tongue but she held up a hand. "I think that you need to regain your power, James. You need to understand that in order to have control over others you need to relinquish control to them."

Barking out a laugh, Brass spat, "The submissive has all the power, right?" Getting to his feet he strode over to where she was standing and said, "So, you want to tie me up? You want to spank me? You think that will give me power?"

Reaching up, she placed her hand on his cheek and said, "No Captain. It doesn't work that way."

"Yeah. And I suppose all those people are screaming because you're giving acting lessons in the other room." He turned away from the coolness of her touch and drained the balance of the drink still in his hand.

Softly, with great patience, Lady Heather said, "What do I have to do to convince you? I'm not going to lie. That would be counter-productive. We provide a service here. That service extends to the arcane, the bizarre. But it also serves a purpose. It offers an outlet that people can't find anywhere else. You shouldn't be so quick to pass judgment. After all, you are here."

With a tip of his head, he ceded the point to her. "You're right. Sorry about that." Scrubbing a hand over his face he met her gaze. "I…uh…I like hockey."

"That wasn't so hard was it?" With a smile and a gesture toward his empty glass, she asked, "Would you like another drink?"

He nodded and relinquished his grip on the tumbler. Looking around, not spying a clock, he asked, "How long do you allow for your…uh…appointments? I don't have any idea how long I've been here. Don't want to overstay my welcome."

Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled and said, "Don't worry. I only take one appointment per night. There is no way to put a time limit on gratification."

"Good, I think." Chuckling at his own discomfort, Brass said, "Do you ever have normal sex? You know, one on one, no torture devices?"

"Ah, James," she said as she turned to face him, "I'm not a prostitute. I thought we cleared that up a long time ago."

"Well, Lady H, I never offered to pay." When her eyebrows shot up in surprise, he continued, "You are a beautiful woman. I'm not sure why I made that appointment, not sure what I was looking for, but I have no doubt about what I want right now."

Regaining her composure, she replied, "And what is it that you want, James?"

Reaching up and running his index finger along her bottom lip, he breathed, "You."

Neither of them moved. Brass' hand fell away from her mouth and he was just about to utter an apology when she caught his wrist and brought his finger back to her lips. With a gentle pressure she nipped at the tip and then laved it with her tongue. Brass emitted a groan and his body tightened in anticipation.

Retaining her hold on his wrist, Lady Heather stepped in, her breasts brushing against him, "Tell me what you really want James." Her breath tickled his lips when she spoke.

He closed his eyes slowly, breathing in her scent. "You," he repeated. "I want you, under me, over me, around me. Everywhere."

"Look at me," her tone was soft and yet brooked no argument, like velvet and steel. His eyes opened slowly and he was captured by the heat of her gaze. "I don't give myself lightly. It has been a very long time since I shared that gift with anyone." Her eyes were boring into his, answering a question he had been afraid to ask.

With a brief nod he let her know that he understood. She hadn't slept with Gil. "I would never have thought anything else."

A tiny smile touched her lips just before she brought them to his in a gentle meeting, one mouth fitting against another, finding its place. Slowly, as if he were afraid she would realize she had made a mistake, Brass increased the pressure of his mouth on hers. His hand came up to settle along her neck, his thumb brushing over the soft skin along her jaw line and she sighed against his lips. When her lips parted he took full advantage, tilting his head, and thrusting his tongue into the warmth of her mouth. And she shuddered.

Reluctantly, Brass pulled back and watched as her eyes fluttered open. Her full lips were swollen from his kiss and her porcelain skin was flushed. She recognized the question in his eyes and before he could speak she brought his hand up to cover her breast. The leather was warm from the heat of her body and Brass' palm tingled at the contact. His fingertips brushed over the sweet swell of flesh exposed by the cut of the top and a low moan escaped her throat.

Leaning forward, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, he said, "Do you ever lose control?"

Her swallow was audible. Heather covered his hand with hers and nodded. "I know when to let go James. Do you?"

His only answer was to slide his lips over her cheek before brushing them against her mouth. Not a kiss but tantalizing little passes that stoked a fire in both of them. Her arms slid up to wrap around his neck, her fingers stroking along his collar while he slid one arm around her waist and pulled her closer. The only sounds in the room were the soft squelch of lips and tongues tangling punctuated by the quiet moans of pleasure from both of them.

When Brass' strong hand came to rest on the swell of her ass, Heather pulled back and said, "Let's not do this here." Her eyes, heavy with arousal, lingered on his mouth as she withdrew from his arms. "We'll go to my private chambers."

Very aroused and a little amused at her continued formality, Brass gave a short nod and said, "After you."

For the second time he found himself following her, his eyes roaming over her body. He noticed a smattering of freckles across her shoulders. He followed the line of her back, noting her narrow waist and how it flowed into the swell of her hips. Reaching a door, she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him before opening it and walking through.

Brass entered behind her and closed the door at his back. His gaze swept over the room taking in the massive wrought iron bed that dominated one wall. There was a fireplace flanked by two overstuffed chairs. Again, heavy drapes covered the windows and a thick carpet muffled their footsteps. The duvet was a deep red and the walls a soft khaki. A massive dresser stood between the windows. There were bookshelves on either side of the fireplace that were full to bursting with books and framed photos. Framed prints adorned the walls and fresh flowers perfumed the air with their delicate scent.

His inspection was interrupted by a quiet chuckle from Heather. "Surprised James?"

"A little," he replied honestly. "I'm not sure what I expected but this," he gestured, "isn't it."

"Sorry to disappoint you but I'm just a normal girl. You didn't really expect whips and chains did you?" She couldn't disguise the smile in her voice. "Of course if you'd rather have that we can go out to the pool house."

With a brief shake of his head he moved to stand in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I don't need any of that."

"Then what do you need?"

Honesty shining from his brilliant blue eyes, he said, "I need you to help me lose control."

Reaching forward, Heather began loosening the top button on his shirt. "Do you trust me, James?" she murmured. Her fingers moved to the next button. "Because trust is the first step," she continued. "If you don't trust me then you will never relinquish control to me. You have to trust me to stop when you ask, to never push you further than you are willing to go. Not just physically but emotionally." As the last syllable fell from her lips she pushed his shirt from his shoulders.

"Heather…" His voice trailed off as her hands came up to touch him.

"Shhh. Trust me." Her long, elegant fingers drifted lazily over his chest and shoulders. She relished the feel of his chest hair tickling her palms. She ran her hands up and down the smooth skin of his upper arms, feeling the firm muscles there. "There are rules here in my world James. Rules that, if you choose to follow them, will guarantee we will both get what we need."

Heather's hands skimmed over his chest again, her fingernails dragging over his nipples. "The first rule is that you will not speak. No words to tell me what you like or dislike. You will have to find other ways to communicate. Show me, guide me but don't tell me. Do you understand?"

Brass opened his mouth to speak and she placed a hand over his mouth, her head moving back and forth. "No," she chided. "Show me." At his nod, she smiled and leaned forward to nip lightly at the firm flesh of his chest.

Raising his hands, Brass framed her face and brought his mouth down to cover hers. Her lips parted and his tongue rushed in sweeping against her own. Heather's fingers were combing through the crisp fur on his chest, nails raking lightly over his sensitive skin. Hands slid over skin and cloth, learning the terrain, mapping the contours of each other's bodies.

Pulling away from him, Heather turned around presenting her back to him. Sweeping her hair over one shoulder, she said quietly, "Unzip me please."

Brass took a step forward and leaned down to run his tongue over the ridge of a shoulder blade. Then, with trembling hands, he tugged at the zipper that held the corset together. When it parted under his touch he feasted his gaze on the smooth skin it exposed. Brass ran a finger down the length of her spine feeling her shudder under his grazing touch.

"The skirt too please," she gasped. Seconds later the filmy material was pooled around her ankles and she released the corset so that it fell at her feet.

Brass opened his mouth to tell her she was beautiful then, remembering her instructions, he began running his hands and lips over her back. Licking, nipping and kissing his way across the tops of her shoulders as his rough palms slid possessively along her rib cage. His fingertips brushed the sides of her breasts while his hardness pressed against the firm flesh of her bottom. Heather brought her arms back, her hands grabbing his hips and pulling him tighter against her, grinding against his erection as her head fell back to rest on his shoulder.

Grasping her shoulders he turned her to face him, crushing her to his chest, and slamming his mouth down on hers. Their mouths were open, seeking, devouring. Her hard nipples were burning into his skin. His hands forged a path over her back before cupping her hips and drawing her tighter against him.

His lips left hers and he began running his tongue over the smooth skin of her neck, licking his way up to suckle at her ear. His mind captured her reaction and tucked it away. She was so responsive, so passionate, moaning and quivering, clutching at him. Gone was the icy façade she maintained for work. Right now she was just a woman and he was just a man and there was nothing between them except electricity.

Heather managed to work her hands between their bodies, her nimble fingers making short work of his belt and the button on his pants. Her fingers grazed his hardness as she slowly lowered his zipper. And when her hand slid inside his boxers and wrapped around him Brass' knees buckled. Her cool fingers wrapped around the hot velvet of his erection squeezing lightly, her thumb brushing over the slit and smearing the drop of fluid that had collected there.

"Oh James," she purred, "look what you've been hiding," Heather said, her voice a throaty purr. Her hands moved over him, noting his average length. But when she wrapped her fingers around him she noticed that what he lacked in length he more than made up for in girth. Just the thought of being filled by him made her whimper. One hand set up a steady rhythm while the other slid down to test the weight of his balls, squeezing them lightly.

Air hissed between his teeth and his fingers dug into the sweet cheeks of her pert ass as he thrust against her questing hand. "Patience," she whispered. "Patience will be rewarded." Her mouth was against his jaw, her tongue flicking along the sensitive skin of his throat loving the rasp of his stubble against her skin. Sliding her hot mouth down his neck to the firm muscle of his shoulder, she sank her teeth in with just enough pressure to push the threshold between pain and pleasure.

Then he was grabbing her hand, leading her to the bed. When they reached their destination, Heather bent to unzip her boots. Brass placed a hand over hers and, when she looked up, shook his head. The heat in his eyes stoked the fire already burning between her legs. "Do you like the boots, James? Do they turn you on?"

He nodded and she straightened up. Hooking her thumbs in the thong she wore she pushed it down around her ankles before stepping out of it. Brass groaned, low and deep in his throat. Before she could chastise him for the sound he was on his knees, burying his face against her smooth, taut abdomen.

He could smell her, musky and sweet, and the scent intoxicated him. From his vantage point, he looked up to see her full breasts jutting proudly forward and her smoky eyes watching his every move. Brass sat back on his heels and ran his hands up her legs until his fingers brushed against the curls at her center. Astonished at how wet she was, Brass had an overwhelming urge to taste her. Leaning forward he pressed his face to her fur. He wrapped his arms around her slender thighs and buried his tongue between her folds. He could feel her hands clutching at him and hear her astonished shriek followed by a deep moan as the taste of her flooded his mouth.

He could feel the muscles in her thighs trembling as her arousal spiraled close to the edge. A litany of guttural moans was issuing from her parted lips. Glancing up he saw that her nipples were puckered into hard points, her eyes were closed and her head thrown back. He knew that just the right amount of pressure would send her rocketing. Moving one arm to cradle her hips, he used the other hand to slide two fingers into her heat. Before she could adjust to the sudden intrusion he began flicking his tongue over her clit in a rapid back and forth motion. And she came, muscles convulsing and thighs quivering while her juices coated his lips and chin. He held her until he felt the spasms stop then slowly, reluctantly, he pulled away.

He rested his face against her belly and his arms wrapped around her for a moment, waiting until her grip on him loosened. Finally sitting back on his heels he watched her eyes open, taking in the flush on her chest and the dampness on her inner thighs. He had never seen a more beautiful woman. With a crack of his knees and an embarrassed smile he rose to stand before her.

Heather took a step forward and kissed him, sucking his tongue into her mouth, loving the taste of her orgasm. She hooked her fingers in his boxers and eased them down over his throbbing erection. Brass couldn't ever remember being that hard in his life. His cock throbbed with the force of his arousal, the skin stretched so tight as to be painful.

She began to drop to her knees in front of him but he caught her, shaking his head to indicate that he couldn't stand any of that particular torture. Instead, he climbed onto the bed and motioned for her to join him. She slid onto the mattress beside him and, after helping him to settle against the headboard, straddled his thighs. He ran his hands up from her hips, over her ribs, to cup her breasts while she sheathed him with a condom she had pulled from a drawer in the nightstand. Slowly, his thumbs brushed over her nipples. He rose up and sucked a tip into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the tight nub. Her hands played over his body. She touched his face and neck, his chest, his abdomen, his groin and upper thighs. She touched him everywhere except the one place that ached for her.

Their hands grew bolder, more demanding, skating over sweat slicked skin. Mouths meshed before moving off to taste some new area. Breaths mingled. But the only sounds came from Heather. Brass was finding that concentrating on being silent was helping him control his desire. It gave him somewhere to focus his attention other than on the physical sensation of the woman grinding wantonly against his right thigh while his fingers pinched at her nipples in a way that was almost painful and his eyes urged her to lose control. Suddenly her movements became frantic. She knelt over him, her slim thighs rising from the boots, her dark curls wet with arousal. Gripping his cock she lowered herself onto him in one smooth stroke.

Just like that they were fucking. No sense trying to find a better word for it. She was pounding up and down on his dick like a mad woman, breasts bouncing, thigh muscles flexing. His hands were digging into her hips as he tried to find her rhythm. This was raw, primal coupling. She brought her hands up to pull at her own nipples, heightening her pleasure. When she felt him stiffen, felt the hot throb of him deep within her, she slammed down on him and began to grind her clit against his pubic bone. Their screams of pleasure mingled with those of the other occupants of the house.

Much later Brass awoke to find a warm weight pressed along his side. His muscles ached and he couldn't remember a time when he had felt so relaxed. Turning his head he met the blue-green gaze of the woman next to him.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," she murmured. "How are you?"

With a smile, he replied, "I thought I was pretty damned good."

Chuckling, she nodded her agreement.

"I do have one question though."

"What's that?" she asked.

Brass brushed her hair behind her ear and said, "Since I did so well with rule number one when do I get to try rule number two?"

Her laughter was smothered by his lips on hers.


End file.
